Angel of Death, The Overused Cliche
by Strangler000
Summary: What Sam and Dean face, can't always be 'supernatural'. Will they still help when it isn't? Warning: Descriptive blood and gore.
1. Prologue

She wandered the streets. She wandered in her old and worn jeans, stained from what seemed to be years of use. She wandered, tugging down the small, white, red splattered top that didn't want to cover both her cleavage and stomach. She wandered, her dull brown hair sticking to her face due to the sticky liquid that covered her face. She wandered, with an evil glint in her eye, and a creepy smile that sent children fleeing. She wandered, leaving behind the man. The man, who had done nothing. Nothing that she knew of anyway. The man, who had pleaded for his life, begged to be let go because 'he had a wife and kids'. She chuckled at the memory. She chuckled as she had when she watched the tears fall from his eyes, as he watched her pull out the long sharp knife from her handbag. The knife now lay discarded by his corpse. It was covered in his blood, but had no prints. The corpse was in pieces, hardly recognizable anymore. The head was mutilated. Doodles carved into him, like he was a doll made of plastic.

* * *

She had left him there, for some poor citizen to find in the morning. Just like all the others. Of course, like every serial killer, she kept a token. To remind her of the 'good times' she had when she carved them up like a Christmas turkey. Her token was small, and wasn't something the victim had. It was small enough to hide, and big enough to keep her satisfied when she couldn't feed her thirst. Of course, this thirst is metaphorical. What else would it be? No, she loved the kill. She loved the way their eyes glazed over. She loved the way they seemed to watch her, and live on after the body was dead. It was her gift, in exchange for the one they had given her. They get to go to heaven, or have the best afterlife they could, while she got her fix. Her moment of ecstasy. There had been 21 killings previously. None of them had anything in common, except that they were dead. Woman, man, black, white, blonde, brunette. She had no preference. As long as they bled and screamed.

* * *

The cops had nothing to go on. At every scene, they had found the same type of knife. Each knife looked exactly the same, even though she always left it at the scene. There was only one other thing she left. Her signature. It was a simple signature. It had given her a nickname, she quite liked. It was always the same. On one of her victim's ears, on the back, after she had cut it off, she would carve an angel into it. And so, that's what they called her.

_The Angel of Death._


	2. Chapter 1

"Hey, Dean, wake up." Sam said, pulling the '67 Impala over. A rusty road sign stood a few metres ahead of them, despite the fact it looked like it would fall over with the slightest breeze. Sam looked at his snoring brother, and after a few seconds of thinking, smirked. He looked at the radio, which had been playing softly for the most part of the journey, and changed to a pop station. He paused, for only a second, to rethink what he was about to do. Dean opened his eyes, although Sam was unable to tell because of the dark sunglasses Dean wore.

"You touch my radio, I'll kill you Sammy."

And that was it. Hand poised over the volume knob, Sam looked like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Sam pulled back and cleared his throat.

"It's Sam, Dean."

"My turn to drive?"

Sam nodded, and got out of the car. Dean slid across smoothly, from years of practice, and swiftly changed the radio to his cassette tape with a disgusted crinkle of his nose. He threw his glasses on the dashboard carelessly and waited while Sam got his laptop and got into shotgun. Dean started driving as soon as the door shut, not bothering to wait while Sam juggled between the objects in hand and putting on his seatbelt.

"Dean," Sam started when he had his seatbelt strapped on and the laptop starting up. "You should put on your seatbelt."

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled down the black strap with one hand.

"Sorry, grandma. Didn't realise we were expecting a car chase."

"Dean, we never know what to expect. Remember the semi that trashed you car last time?"

Dean gasped and patted his car, as you would a pet dog.

"Don't mention that in front of my baby. You'll make her have nightmares!"

Sam chuckled at his brother and looked down at the bright screen, illuminating his face in a dull blue light. Dean drowned out the clacking of the keyboard by turning up the music, occasionally glancing at his brother. He slowed to 60km/h as they entered the suburban streets, and pulled into the car park of a cheap motel. Sam snapped the laptop shut and picked up his duffle bag, following Dean into the reception area. Sam rolled his eyes when he caught Dean checking out a woman walking by, and elbowed him roughly. Dean shot him a dirty look.

"Dude, what was that for?"

Sam ignored him and got their room from the manager, who seemed to be the only one working this late. They walked up the old stairs that creaked under their weight, and found their room. The door had rust seeping from the brass number '15', and was a hideous fuchsia. It was just like all the other rooms they had been in before. Old, mouldy, hideous colour schemes and mattresses that kept you up all night. Sam threw his bag on the more stable looking bed, and put his laptop on the pale blue table. He started it up and watched Dean collapse on the other bed, bag discarded by the door. Sam picked up the bag and put it at the foot of Dean's bed.

"Dude, want a coffee?"

Dean mumbled something into his pillow, and Sam walked out the door. After months of that, he had come to mildly understand the muffled noises Dean made. He came back minutes later with two cheap coffees from a vending machine in reception. He put them both on the table and opened the file he had been looking at in the car. Dean got up and took a long sip of the coffee.

"Thanks Sammy."

Sam clenched his jaw and gave a too smug Dean a pointed look.

"What're you looking at, dude?"

Sam sighed and took a drink from his own cup.

"I think I found a job. 21 people over the last 3 months have died."

"That's, uh, great Sam. People die everyday."

Sam looked at his brother like he was mentally challenged.

"All of them were chopped into pieces, and had their faces carved into to. They're calling it 'The Angel of Death'" Dean scoffed.

"So, you think that because people are being chopped up like Christmas turkey, this is a job for us?"

"Dean, we could at least check it out."

Dean just went back to bed.

"Night Sammy."

"It's Sam!" he all but yelled, glaring at Dean's laughing form.


	3. Chapter 2

An alarm clock screamed, waking up the residents of half the hotel. The thin walls were definitely a minus. Hannah rolled over in her bed, and glared at the wall across the room. Finally, her neighbours turned off the alarm clock, and she could hear them moving around. Hannah sighed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She remembered getting back to her room late last night. She had passed two guys when she came in, and one of them had blatantly checked her out. Hannah walked to the bathroom, ignoring the mould in-between the tiles. After 3 months, she had gotten used to the crummy room, the horrible vibrant colours and the noisy neighbours. She spent 10 minutes in the hot shower, and walked out to get her clothes, wrapped in the fluffy pink towel that came with the room. Just as she had pulled out a red sundress, there came a knock on the door. Hannah bolted upright, and ran a hand through her damp hair. She walked over to the door and kept the chain bolted, opening the door slowly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm John. I'm in the room next door, and we don't have enough towels."

"Oh, well, I'm sure I have one spare. Come on in."

Hannah closed the door and unchained it, then opened it and let John come in. He smirked at her towel clad figure.

"Sorry, did I interrupt a shower?"

Hannah glanced at him.

"No, I just got out actually."

Hannah went to a cupboard and pulled out the spare towel. She gave him the towel and smiled again. He smiled back.

"Well, I'll let you get dressed, I suppose. It was nice meeting you…"

"Hannah. It was nice meeting you too, but next time, try to remember the walls are paper thin, Dean."

Hannah pushed him out the room and shut the door in his flabbergasted face.

Hannah waited until it was dark before she left her room. She had brushed her hair, put on a thin layer of make-up and some nice red shoes to match her dress, and worn a few silver bangles. Hanging loosely on her left shoulder was a thin strap, belonging to the black handbag by her hip. She hailed a taxi and arrived at the closest bar minutes later. She noticed a few heads turn when she walked in the old wooden door, and hid a smirk. She walked to the bar, bought a beer, and waited like a fly-trap waited for a bug. She leaned back on the bar, nursing the beer and gazing around the room for the next victim. She saw some movement out of the corner of her eye, and smiled flirtatiously at the young man coming towards her. He was what every teenage girl was supposed to want. Blonde, tan, handsome. She decided that he was perfect. He stopped in front of her, and grinned.

"So, should I bother with a line?"

Hannah laughed softly and brought the beer to her lips. After the cool liquid had slid down her throat, she released the glass bottle with a quiet 'pop' and eyed him up and down.

"I didn't think a guy like you would need a line"

He chuckled and leaned forward, closer to her ear.

"Guy like me?"

She smiled wider and picked up his hand.

"Want me to read your palm?"

He chuckled again, and raised an eyebrow with a small nod. Hannah winked back and flipped his hand over, tracing the creases lightly with her finer tips.

"I see….A beautiful woman in your future, and an incident to do with her."

"And would that beautiful woman happen to be you?"

Hannah leaned forward and whispered into his ear huskily. After years of practice, she could turn it on and off like a light switch.

"Future's what you make it."

He took her hand and led her out of the bar, down to a near by alley way. He pushed her up against a wall, pressing his lips against hers hungrily. He had his eyes closed as the kiss deepened, and didn't notice Hannah's movements. She slid a hand into her bag, and slowly pulled out a knife. It was smaller than you would expect from the damage it does, but it was highly effective and freshly sharpened. He grunted and stepped back, wide-eyed. He tried to shout, but his voice was lost when she hit him in the throat with the hilt of the knife. He clutched at his throat and tried to cough away the damage, but only made it worse. She smiled, a sickeningly sweet smile, but it was more disturbing than an antique doll at the end of your bed. She walked over to him calmly, and thrust her fingers into his side. He grunted again, and tried to run. His eyes widened even more, and Hannah tutted him.

"What's the matter? Can't move?" Her face fell into an evil grimace. "Trying to run from little ol' me?" She hissed.

She looked over the knife appraisingly, and glanced at the tears starting to fall from his face.

"Oh, come on. Crying already? I haven't even started yet." She brought the knife to his throat, drawing a thin line across his throat and watching the blood rise to the surface. It wasn't a killing blow, merely a mild taste of what was to come. He whimpered. She pushed him over, and her fell backwards with a dull thud. There was a loud rip as she tore his shirt off of him and started peeling off his skin in long, thing strokes. If he had been able to, he would have screamed. She started humming a soft lullaby and glanced at him when he made a loud muffled scream, not quite loud enough to be heard by anyone else.

"Are you trying to call for help? No one's going to help you. Not now. Besides, I thought you _wanted_ to have fun."

She moved away from his nearly skinless chest. She could see the muscles through the last layer of skin, and they tensed and relaxed rapidly. She moved down to his hands and picked it up.

"Maybe, you should be punished for trying to disturb our game."

She brought the knife to his thumb, and slowly applied more and more pressure until it was torn off. He let out a thick sob.

"W-why…?" he asked hoarsely.

She moved over to him, and lifted his face so she could look him in the eye. She liked his eyes. They were a soft grey, and had a nice shine to them.

"Sorry? I don't think I heard that."

"Why?"

She laughed, then her expression became blank.

"Because it's fun, but, you're getting boring. Nice meeting you."

She grinned as fast as she had become blank, and swung the knife across his throat, nearly severing it from the neck. She smiled, and went back to her work.

Sam ran into their hotel room and looked at Dean, out of breath, holding a newspaper in his hand.

"There's been another one."

Next door, a shower could be heard running, along with a soft lullaby.


	4. Chapter 3

Dean looked at his brother for a moment. He had woken to the slam of the door, and was still shaking off the sleep that had taken a hold of him just moments ago. When his mind finally grasped what his brother had said, he stood and grabbed the paper from Sam's hand. He unrolled it, and on the front page was a large photo of an alley way that had been blocked off by police tape. Beyond the tape, he could just make out puddles of blood. He flicked his eyes down to the attached story titled 'The Angel Strikes Again, Police in Panic.' He skimmed through the journalist dribble, down to the details.

'…The male, aged 23, was found next to the local bar. He has not yet been identified. He had gone in to get a drink, and ended the night in pieces. Police say he had blonde hair, blue eyes and was probably around 6 feet tall. This is the 22 kill this month, and police have started talking about a curfew. They did find one witness, who has been unable to describe the killer at this time, but did say it was probably female…'

"Sammy, this doesn't give us much of a lead. It just says that the witness can't describe who did it. It's obviously not our type of thing."

"It's Sam, and I know. I asked around a little, and people are saying it's like the victims were ripped apart. Maybe possession?"

Dean shook his head and threw the paper on the bed.

"Sam, I'm telling you, this isn't our type of thing. We should leave it to the cops."

Sam looked at Dean with a look that clearly said he was about to start yelling.

"Dean, since when do you want to let the cops figure it out? I think we should try and get a few leads, even if it's just to prove it's definitely not 'our type of thing.'"

Dean looked at his brother for moment. Sam gave him a pleading look, and the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Dean groaned.

"Damn it Sam! Fine. We'll stay for a week, at the most. We're leaving after a week, no matter what." Dean walked past, into the bathroom, the shouted out, "You use those eyes again, I swear, I'm gonna tear 'em out!"

Sam laughed and picked up the paper, staring at the picture for some kind of clue.

Dean walked smoothly up to the police tape, and just as he was about to cross, one of the officers standing around noticed him.

"Hey! You can't go through there!"

Dean looked at him, and smiled.

"Sorry, I'm with the FBI, Agent Hammer."

The officer eyed him suspiciously, until Dean flashed the badge. Sam came up behind him.

"This is my partner, Agent Smith."

The man gazed between the two for a moment, then nodded and waved them through. As the pair moved out of sight, Dean slapped Sam on the arm.

"See, I told you Smith would work."

Sam rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Just get to work."

They looked over the alley way, to see if anything really stood out. If you've seen one alley way, you've seen them all. Dark, dank and smells like a toilet. This alley was in between a strip club, and a gun shop, just across the street from the bar. Rubbish dumpsters were scattered, either side of the alley way, as well as piles of rubbish where people had been rummaging for food, or god knows what. As the boys went further down, closer to the actual scene of the crime, they noticed something. It was feint at first, but the closer they got to where the body had rested, the more the alley stank. It wasn't a bad stink, not sulphur, or the stench of death. It was lavender.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of crime scene smells like lavender?"

Dean inhaled deeply.

"It's not just lavender. I've smelt this before."

Sam grunted in response, touching a still damp spot on the wall, a few feet away from where the body had been. He stood back, rubbing his fingers together and frowning. When he looked back up, he gasped. There was a clear splatter of blood, leading from the body and up to near the roof. Whatever had done this, was ruthless, or so Sam thought. He looked back at his brother. Dean was still smelling the air, nose slightly crinkled.

"Dude, this is a girl's perfume!"

"Dean, the paper already said-"

"No, I know, it's just…This is what Mum used to use. I remember. She'd spray it on in the morning, and could still smell it when I hugged her goodnight."

Both boys were silent. Sam, now slightly upset at the mention of the mother he never knew, walked over to a bin that had been knocked over. He rummaged a bit, then let out a loud, disgusted noise, jumping back from the bin.

"Gross!"

Dean span around, hand at his gun. When he saw his brother standing over the bin, with a hand at his nose and looking slightly green, he relaxed.

"Dude! What is it?"

Sam didn't say anything, just waved at the bin. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over, rummaging through the same pile. He didn't have to move much before he found an ear, in a McDonalds wrapper.

"Agh! Sammy!"

Dean picked up the ear with the tips of his fingers, letting it dangle. There was a long strip of skin still attached to the ear, like when the ear had been cut off; the last inch had been torn, ripping skin off of the neck as well. Dean twisted his arm so he could see the back of the ear. A small angel was carved into the cartilage. It was simple doodle, a circle for the head, a rhombus for the dress, and a wing on either side. Dean walked out to the cops, holding the ear.

"Hey, you got an evidence bag on you?"

The nearest one turned around and immediately paled at sight of the ear. He dashed away and came back with a plastic bag, holding it open for Dean to use. Dean dropped it in and patted the man on the shoulder, discreetly wiping his hand on the man's shirt.

"Good Job. Take this back to the morgue, will ya?" Dean grinned, and then glanced back at Sam, who had been taking EMF readings. They calmly walked back to the Impala, and drove away from the crime scene.

"Anything?" asked Dean, glancing at Sam quickly, then back to the road.

"Nope. Not a single reading. And there weren't any signs of demonic activity. No sulphur or anything. Maybe you were right Dean."


	5. Chapter 4

Hannah had spent all night washing the blood from her skin and clothes. Her skin was easy to wash, and didn't take more than an hour. The dress however, took longer, and even now still had faint stains if she looked closely. She threw it out when she left in the morning. She had gotten a job at a diner to get by, and look at least a little normal. She walked in the glass double doors, and walked to the kitchen, tying on her apron. She was the best chef they had, mostly because she was so good with a knife and she had more time to focus on the cooking. She smiled at Johnny, the 16 year old guy who had gotten a part time job so he could repaint his car. He didn't do much work, and spent most of his time at the front counter flirting. The other girls who worked there didn't mind. The eldest was Marie, she had turned 56 the other week, and had a small party. Unfortunately Hannah had been unable to make it. Karen, the manager, was 32 and a really nice lady. She always let Al, the man who lived in the alley way, get a free meal. Marie and Karen worked everyday, and always tried to set Hannah up with one of the guys who came in. Today the new girl was working the same shift as Hannah. She was 21, had a bad blonde dye job, and had a voice that made Hannah cringe. They never did get along.

"Hey Hannah, some, like, really hot guy, he like, wants pancakes."

Hannah cringed at the high pitched voice and looked up from the chocolate she had been chopping into chunks.

"What _kind_ of pancakes, Emma?"

Emma popped her chewing gum and twirled a chunk of hair around her finger.

"Ummm….The kind with chocolate in it, and he, like, wants more than, like, normal."

Hannah rolled her eyes at her stupidity.

"Right. Why don't you go check your make-up, I think I see some real skin."

Emma's eyes widened and she ran to the bathroom. Hannah finished up the batch of pancakes in 15 minutes, and noticed Emma still hadn't returned. She picked up the plate and went out to the counter. She glanced around and immediately knew where she had to go. There were only 3 tables filled, and 2 of them were eating. She walked over to the two men and put the plate on the table. They both looked up, and she immediately recognised them as Dean, and his roommate.

"Hannah?"

She smiled.

"Hey Dean, who's your friend?"

He looked at the other guy, who was watching Dean with a small smirk.

"That's my brother, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

Hannah smiled at him.

"Nice to meet you, but I'm at work, so I'll see you around."

Dean grinned a grin, that Hannah assumed was supposed to be charming and make her fall head over heels in love.

"I hope so."

Hannah fought the urge to scoff, and walked back to the kitchen.

3 hours later, Karen let her go on break. Hannah went out to the tables with one of their special muffins and went to sit down. She saw something moving out of the corner of her eye and looked up to find Sam and Dean still sitting at their table, Dean waving her over. She looked hesitantly at the table she had been about to sit at, then to the front counter where Marie and Karen were working. Well, they were watching her with smiles and nudging each other followed by short bursts of laughter. Hannah sighed and sat down next to Sam, placing her plate in front of her gently.

"What are you guys still doing here? You finished those pancakes ages ago."

They both shrugged. Hannah pulled out a pocket knife and flicked it open. She folded the corkscrew, fork, spoon, magnifying glass and nail file back in, leaving the knife out, and started peeling off the top of the muffin. She ate the long strips as she pulled them off, and soon started cutting chunks out of the centre of the muffin until she reached the gooey chocolate. She pulled the spoon back out and ate the chocolate separately to the rest of the muffin. When she finished the last crumbs on her plate she looked up. Dean and Sam were staring at her.

"What?"

"That's an…interesting way to eat a muffin."

Hannah shrugged and stood up with her empty plate in hand.

"Well, my break's over. I'll see you round."

Sam waved and Dean grinned again, this time with a wink. Hannah walked away, hearing the beginning of their conversation.

"You smell her perfume? Reminds me of mum's."

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** I need help! I want to know if you, the reader, would like the story to go on a bit before the boys find out what's going on, or you don't particularly care. Please review, and give me some suggestions!


	6. Chapter 5

There was a slam of a door from next door, and both Sam and Dean looked at each other. Sam went to the door and looked out the peephole, then back at Dean who was zipping up a bag.

"Dude, are sure you want to do this?" Sam asked. He had been unsure of the plan the second it left his brothers mouth. Dean nodded.

"You said it yourself; we have to at least check it out. She wears the perfume, she's a suspect."

Sam shook his head lightly, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, if we're gonna do it, we've got to do it now, while she's at work."

Dean stood up, taking the bag with him.

"Let's go."

Sam opened the door and walked into the hallway, checking nervously for people. When he was sure no one was coming, he waved his brother out. Dean went to Hannah's door, and tried the handle, not really expecting it to open. Of course, it was locked. He picked the lock while Sam kept watch, and they were soon inside the room with the door closed behind them. They scoured the room. They went through her clothes, much to Dean's amusement, and her bags. Nothing went untouched. When they finished in the main room, Sam got out the EMF, and Dean went to search the bathroom. The shower floor was still scattered with water, and a constant dull dripping came from it. Dean, ignoring this, opened the small cupboard underneath the sink. He closed it again after a moment, the cupboard only containing the small complimentary soaps and shampoos. He sighed and went back into the main room. Sam was sitting on the bed.

"Nothing. If she's a demon, she's hiding it really well. What if it's just a coincidence?"

Dean went to sit beside Sam, but froze when he saw something in the corner of his eye. He walked slowly towards the dresser, searching for the source of the glint. He pulled back the dresser, and let out a whistle. Behind the dresser there was a hole in the wall connecting the room to the bathroom. In the hole, lay a pile of knives, most wrapped in cloth. Dean picked up the top one, and looked at Sam.

"Still think it's a coincidence?"

* * *

Dean paced the floor of his room, glancing at the door every time he passed it. Sam had gone to the police station to match the knife to the murder weapon, and Dean had stayed behind to top Hannah from going out once she got back from work. Dean stopped pacing when he heard footsteps coming towards the door, but groaned and fell back on the bed when he heard them keep walking past. Dean stared at the ceiling for what seemed to be hours before he heard another set of footsteps. This time, they stopped in front of the door and there was a soft click. Dean sat up and watched the door open, and Sam walk in with a bunch of photos in hand.

"What took you so long?"

Sam shrugged, throwing his jacket onto his bed and taking a seat at the table. He laid out the pictures and looked at Dean.

"It took me a while, but I got the pictures. All 22 crime scenes."

Dean sat across from Sam, eyes locked on the pictures.

"Jesus…"

Sam nodded grimly, looking at the 12 year old girl Dean was staring at. She had brown hair, but it was matted with blood. Her eyes were rolled back, but not closed. The eyelids had been cut out in the middle, leaving the eyelashes. Her nose had alternating strips missing, no more than a centimetre thick. Her cheeks had been cut similarly to the eyelids, just a gaping hole into the mouth on each side left behind. The cuts were messy, unlike the other victims. The rest of her body was much the same, full of holes and missing strips of skin. They both looked at the photo of the whole crime scene. On one side, there was a pile of discarded flesh, like it was a puzzle missing some pieces, and all you had to do was put them back in. Dean stood and ran to the bathroom, soon followed by Sam. They both threw up, Dean in the toilet and Sam in the next best thing, the sink. Dean looked up at Sam from the toilet, pale.

"I think you're right. This is our sort of thing."

* * *

Reviews are yummy and fattening. Help me gain weight!


	7. Chapter 6

Hannah got home later than usual. The others had gone to the bar down the block, leaving her to close up. She reached her door, ready for a hot bath and a good night of sleep. Sam and Dean from next door were arguing again. The door opened with a bang, and Dean walked out backwards with his jacket in hand.

"Call me when you get that stick out of your ass!" He shouted, slamming the door. He looked over at Hannah and smiled, somewhat embarrassed.

"Uh…Hey."

Hannah smiled and put the key into the door.

"Hi. Family feud?"

Dean nodded, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah. How'd you tell?"

Hannah shrugged, a dark look falling over her face.

"I have a lot of…experience with family fights. Besides, you don't look like an antique boy." She smiled at his confused face and laughed a little, opening the door. "I'll see you Dean."

Dean stared for a second as Hannah walked into the room, and just as she started closing the door, put his foot in the way. Hannah sighed and looked at him expectantly.

"I was thinking, and I noticed you seemed to be a little lonely. Do you want to go get a drink?"

Hannah thought for a second, and then smiled.

"Just give me 5 minutes."

She opened the door and let Dean in. He looked around before resting on the bed while Hannah changed into her favourite red dress and ran a brush through her hair. She came out of the bathroom and slid a handbag over her shoulder, then looked at Dean.

"Alright. Let's go."

Dean went out the door first, and when Hannah went to lock the door again, she stopped.

"Hang on, I forgot my ID, wait here."

Hannah ran back into the room, and reached behind the dresser, sliding the metal into her purse before running back out. She smiled at Dean and locked the door, following him out to his car.

They arrived at the bar minutes later. Dean helped Hannah out of the car and put his arm around her shoulders possessively when the guys around the area eyed her like a piece of meat. They both entered the smoke filled room and went to the bar. After receiving their drinks, they went to a table off to the side and sat down. After a few minutes of awkward silence and finishing drinks, Hannah sighed and looked at Dean.

"So, what were you and your brother fighting about?"

Dean looked up. "Uh, well. He wants to stay here longer, but I want to move on. We're on a road trip around the country."

Hannah nodded, and the silence returned for a moment.

"Do you want to dance?"

Hannah looked at the small dancing crowd and then at Dean. She nodded, taking his outstretched hand. She was slightly surprised at herself when she noticed how his hands were surprisingly smooth, despite the calluses. She ignored it.

An hour later she was leading Dean outside by the hand. She walked past his car, despite Dean's confused protests, and into an alley near by. He finally got the idea and stopped complaining. Hannah turned around when they were away from sight and smiled flirtatiously. Dean smiled back, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her closer. They kissed, and Hannah found herself loosing focus. All she could think about was his lips. He slid the handbag off her shoulder and it fell to the floor while they moved backward until Hannah's back was against the wall. Hannah wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and her legs around his torso, enjoying the kiss as much as possible. When she slowly released him from her grip, Dean pulled back.

"What?"

Hannah looked at him darkly, pulling the gun from the back of his waistband.

"You a cop or something?"

"What? So it's a crime to walk around with a gun these days."

Hannah's look got darker than Dean had thought possible, and she slammed the gun into his throat. He choked and stumbled back trying to speak. Hannah dropped the gun, sending it under a dumpster, and watched Dean for a moment. She moved towards him, ready to hit the nerve. He saw the move coming and grabbed her wrist before she hit him. Hannah looked at him and caught his eye. They stared, and then, Dean was on the floor. He let out a noise, supposedly a curse, and tried to roll back up. Hannah brought her fist down on the nerve before he moved, and he stopped.

"Dean, I liked you, if I could be sorry, I would regret this. Unfortunately for you, you're in the wrong place, wrong time. A week longer and I would have been gone. So, what are you? A cop? FBI?"

Dean tried to speak and failed once again. Hannah sighed, leaning forward closer to his mouth. He repeated the noise, and Hannah frowned.

"I'm not anything. I'm a killer, I work in a café."

Dean managed to clear his throat.

"Not a demon? Not a shifter? Not anything?" He wheezed.

Hannah walked over to her purse and pulled out the knife. She knelt beside him and held the knife over his cheek with an appraising expression.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Dean's eyes flickered behind her, then back again. Hannah tore off his shirt and let a smile cross her face. She ran the cool blade across his skin, letting blood surface, and looked at his face. She pushed the knife into his shoulder and grinned when he tried to bite back a scream.

"Ya know Dean, no one else has fought back before. Do you think Sammy will react the same way? I hope so…"

Dean's eyes snapped open and to her. Hannah was watching him, the knife held playfully in her hand.

"You touch my brother and I'll kill you!" He growled. Hannah almost flinched.

"I don't think you can do that from wherever you'll go. I'm gonna help you get to the good place Dean, won't that be nice?" She ran the knife down his arm, tracing the veins. She moved back to his face and let the knife hover over his lips. They both stared at the tip of the knife.

"You have nice lips, for a guy."

Dean looked at her. She was still fixated on the knife. He twitched his hand and looked back down the alley. He could see Sam sneaking along, with some cops behind him. Dean's attention was jolted back to himself when the knife cut into his skin and soon he had blood dripping over his chin and mouth. Hannah looked up at him with an amused smile. She moved her hand upward and the knife slid into Dean's gut. She started pulling the knife up, making the wound larger and blood spilling onto her. She flipped him back over. Dean had lost too much blood, his vision was getting hazy. He heard Sam calling out, and then, fell unconscious.

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter is the finale! I expect to write a sequel or another story, but before I post the next chapter I want atleast 5 reviews so I can get inspired! Please, tell me if i've made an error in a chapter, or if you think something about the story doesn't make sense. Even if you've reviewed before! Reviews Candy & Sugar, HELP ME Gain Weight!!!


	8. Finale

Sam crept along the alley way with policemen behind him. They had caught him near the entrance, and he had to tell them something, so he told them that he and 'Agent Hammer' were on the trail of the murderer and were making an arrest. They insisted they helped, as the killer was highly dangerous. They watched the shadows roll over, and ran forward to help Dean. They saw Dean tense and a sliver of silver protruded from his back, the last layer of skin holding back the blood for only a moment. Sam yelled out for his brother as Hannah rolled Dean back over and pulled out the knife. Sam ran to Dean's side and attempted to block the wound with his hands while Hannah fought off both the policemen. She knocked one down and then the other followed shortly after, and Sam came to his senses. He stood up and looked at Hannah with pure hatred. She had hurt Dean. He was dying, and it's her fault. These thoughts made Sam's blood boil, and he charged her. The policemen watched the flurry of movement in a daze. When they could stand upright, they joined the fight, taking hold of Hannah's arms. She screamed and struggled, shouting profanities at the men. One knocked her out, and everyone stopped. Silence filled the air. Sam ran back to Dean, letting the policemen call an ambulance and get Hannah into the car.

"Dean? Dean, wake-up. Come on man, stay with me."

Dean groaned and his eyes flickered open.

"Sam? Ah, I don't think she-"

"She's not a demon. Or anything, just twisted in the head."

Dean nodded slightly and then cringed. Medics raced towards them, carrying a stretcher. Sam jogged beside them, holding onto the side and talking to Dean as they ran him back to the ambulance. It had taken a minute or two to move Dean onto the stretcher, and the movement had made the bleeding worse. Sam could tell the medics were getting a bit panicked. The ambulance trip seemed to go on longer than the 3 minutes and 20 seconds Sam had counted. He wasn't allowed into the Emergency Room with them, so instead he paced in front of the doors. He counted each step, and got to 352 before the surgeon came out. The older man with brown greying hair pulled down his mask with bloodied gloves, and gave Sam a grim smile.

"We've done all we can. We've stopped the bleeding, stitched up his wounds, although there'll be scars, and given him a transfusion. Now all we can do is wait."

Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"Can I see him?"

"He's resting at the moment, but come back tomorrow. Right now you should get some rest and get cleaned up."

The surgeon looked over Sam with a slightly disgusted grimace and walked back into the ER. Sam looked down at himself. His blue flannel shirt was caked with blood, still drying. His knuckles were bloody from hitting Hannah, and were slowly turning purple. He had scratch marks down his arms, now scabbed over, from where Hannah and dug in her nails. He could feel his right eye starting to swell. Sam looked around self consciously and decided to do as the surgeon said. He didn't like the looks the mothers and elders were giving him.

* * *

Hannah sat in the interrogation room. It was cold, and her thin blood covered dress was getting uncomfortable. She had been cuffed to the table and all of her jewellery had been taken away, as well as her shoes. So there she sat. Once clean and neat brown hair tangled and knotted. It had somehow gotten blood into it; Hannah didn't bother to think about how. Her cheeks were sore and the bruises, she could see, were a lovely mix of green yellow and purple. Her skin was barely visible, coated in a layer of dirt, blood and unmentionable substances from the alleyway. He hands were stiff and sore from fighting off the police, and coated in Dean's blood. She picked out Sam's blood and skin from underneath her nails while she waited. She ignored the fact that her skin was turning slightly blue from the cold, and that the steel chair was making her rear sore, refusing to show weakness in front of the cops who were most definitely watching her from the one-way window in the wall. She glanced up when the door scraped along the floor and 2 men entered the room. The first was blonde; blue eyed and had light skin. He had a slight beer belly forming underneath his suit, but still looked fit. The other was dark skinned, had brown hair and green eyes. He looked fitter than his partner, and had the 'I'm a hard ass' look on his face. Hannah hid a smirk when he slammed a file onto the table and leaned on his hands to glare down at her.

"Wow, that's an impressive file. You writing a novel?"

He flicked the first page open.

"No, but I could. You've been busy, haven't you Hannah. Maybe you would prefer it if I called you Joanna. Or maybe even Kelly?"

Hannah leaned forward and met his gaze, the smirk showing through.

"How about, we skip the whole 'bad cop' routine, and you get to showing me what I've done and try to break me? That's my favourite part."

The blonde walked forward and tapped the brunette on the shoulder. He nodded towards the door, and the brunette left.

"So, I guess you're the bad cop?"

The blonde smiled.

"No, we're both the bad cop."

Hannah leaned back in the chair and went back to picking at her nails. The blonde went through the folder, flicking pictures onto the table when he found them. Soon the table was covered with pictures of the victims, and Hannah was looking at them with pride. She picked up the picture of the young girl and smiled. She looked at the blonde and showed him the picture.

"I like this one the best. I could never get the others to look as great as her…"

"Her name's Grace Luciana, 12 years old, an older sister who is missing, and her mother's deceased." He picked up another photo, and put it on top of the others. It was an older version of the girl. Her darker brown hair was clumped together, but her scalp had been nearly ripped off and was hanging just above her eyebrows. Her eyelids had been completely removed, as well as her lips, and the rest of the details that could be seen were like Grace's. Hannah's eyes sparkled.

"Which one's your favourite, Detective?"

He frowned and started picking up the photos.

"You know, you look like the guy I killed earlier this week. He had a tan though…He was really pathetic. Part of me hopes he went to hell."

The blonde's grip on the photos tightened, and they crinkled.

"He was crying before I even started cutting him." Hannah chuckled at the memory and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, like what she said next was a big secret. "He even begged for his life, I can still see the light going out in those beautiful grey eyes..." Hannah trailed off and watched the man run from the room with a smirk on her face. She picked up another photo and examined it like it was an abstract painting.

The detectives came back an hour later, with a confident young man in a crisp black suit and a matching leather briefcase. They let the man in, and then left. Hannah watched the man sit down across from her and glance at the pictures in front of her. He paled slightly, and swallowed, quickly looking back up. Hannah smiled kindly.

"Ms. Kingston, I'm your lawyer, Matthew Jennings."

"Hi there Matt. I'm Hannah."

He smiled and opened the briefcase, pulling out a file of his own and skimming through.

"Well, you don't have a good case. We could plead insanity…"

Hannah scowled.

"Mr Jennings, I am not going to plead anything."

"Ms Kingston, you can't win this! I strongly suggest you plead guilty."

"Why? I thought it was pretty obvious that I am guilty. Besides, it'll be fun, messing with the jury and the media."

They stared at one another for a moment. Hannah could see that Matthew wasn't someone who got intimidated easily, but in front of her, he was close to trembling. He left the room quickly.

* * *

Hannah shuffled along behind the rest of the prisoners, her hands and feet chained together. The bus ride had been long, and the small metal tin stank like testosterone. After the trial, she had spent 3 days in the women's jail before she got transferred. In the 3 short days, she had caused a fight at every break, and had even torn another woman's ear off. The others got away with scratches on their face and arms. The guards working there weren't suited to such a dangerous character in the prison, and so applied for a transfer, A.S.A.P. They loaded her onto a bus full of other prisoners, and sent her on her way. When she arrived at the prison, she put on the sweet and innocent façade she had when she was on trial and first arrived at the other prison. She looked down, forced up tears and even got her hands to shake as they held the chains off the ground. She ignored the cat calls and wolf whistles, flinching whenever the men banged on the metal wire fence. Of course, inside she was laughing. Everyone here thought she was a piece of meat, weak. They didn't think about why she was there in the first place, what she had done. Hannah grinned in her new bunk, and watched the guard go by. She was going to like it here. Green River County Detention Centre was going to be a lot of fun.

* * *

That's the last chapter of 'Angel of Death, the overused cliche' Hope you enjoyed it, hope you have reviewed. I am considering a sequel (As you can see I've left it open for the squel and those who are obsessed, like me, will probably be able to see what's gonna happen) I will not even load it onto until I get 10 REVIEWS. That's a low number! ONLY 10! Don't rely on other people to do it because frankly, that's going to stop it from ever appearing! Oh, and if you don't want a sequel, Review and I won't count it s part of the 10. In Fact, I'll -1 for every person who says no sequel. Sound Decent? Good. By The Way, I didn't meet my review qouta for the last chapter, but I won't give in this time.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the following:

**Black Sabbath **For writing the song 'Phsyco Man'. It's what inspired me to write the story

**Supernatural, Eric Kripke and the Crew that create the show **For creating the show! Without the show this would have no real chance at all.

**Dexter **(The TV series) For helping my understanding of a serial killer. Seriously, It really helped me get the MO and Hannah's character more.

**ephiny63, Thorny Hedge, supernaturalsammy67, timetowaste247 AND Sapphire93 **FOR REVIEWING! You guys are what made me write more. After reading one of your reviews, I really got inspired and wrote more! I would especially like to thank supernaturalsammy67 for reviewing 3 times! You are a legend!!! Everyone should take a leaf from her book and review more.


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